


Farmall Frolic

by riventhorn



Category: The Eagle (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-10
Updated: 2011-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:23:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>American AU set in the 1930s. Esca, Marcus, a tractor, and sex!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Farmall Frolic

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at the [Happy Gay Farmers Fic Fest](http://riventhorn.livejournal.com/59772.html)
> 
> Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended; no profit is being made from this

The sun burned down hot on Marcus’s neck. He peered into the tractor’s engine, greasy rag clutched in his fist. It was a Farmall Regular that his uncle had gotten back in 1924 when they first came out. Ten years ago now, and it needed some new parts, but his uncle couldn’t afford them.

Groaning, Marcus straightened, mopping his brow. At least they still had the land. So many of their neighbors had given up and fled west to California, leaving their farms to the dust and the wind. Uncle Aquila was barely hanging on, but he wasn’t about to give up. “The land lays a claim to you,” he would tell Marcus in the evenings as they sat on the porch and listened to the sawing screech of the grasshoppers.

Marcus gave the engine another ineffectual poke. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing. He was a city boy, grew up around alleys and pavement and bicycles, not corn and cows and tractors. It had been kind of his uncle to take him in and give him a place to stay, something to do. Marcus’s father had marched to Washington with Walters the year before to demand his bonus, demand that the government honor his service to the country during the war. And in all the resulting chaos, when that damned MacArthur drove the veterans out, set their camp on fire, Marcus’s father had disappeared. Had he been killed? Or had he just not wanted to come home to a family that he could no longer support?

When it became clear that he wasn’t going to return, his mother had gone to stay with her sister. And Marcus’s uncle had written unexpectedly, offering Marcus a job on his farm. Marcus had written back, explaining about his bad leg, but his uncle replied, “Don’t matter how slow you move so long as you get the work done.” Marcus didn’t have any other options, so he had accepted and spent the summer out in the fields, turning brown from the sun, and discovering all of the old Farmall’s quirks and caprices.

“She’s a good old work horse,” his uncle would say, patting the seat, and Marcus would grit his teeth and go back to attacking the rusty screws with a wrench.

And now, once again, he was stranded in the east field, the Farmall refusing to splutter back to life.

“Dammit!” Marcus cursed, giving the wheel a vindictive kick.

“Trouble?” an amused voice asked behind him.

He turned. It was Esca, the new farmhand his uncle had hired. He had showed up one day in a pair of faded trousers, skinny, shuffling his feet in the dirt. Esca hadn’t said much about where he was from, just that he needed work. Uncle Aquila had turned him away at first, but Marcus had spoken with him, begged him to take Esca on, and his uncle had relented. Marcus couldn’t quite say why he had pleaded for someone he hardly knew, only that he had felt a connection with Esca, knowing what it was like to have lost everything.

“Let me have a look,” Esca said, shouldering Marcus aside, and Marcus realized he had just been standing there, staring at Esca. Flushing, he backed away.

He watched as Esca fiddled with a gasket. There was a smudge of dirt on Esca’s cheek, and he had to stuff his hand in his pocket to keep from reaching out to wipe it off. Esca glanced at him and smiled.

It had been like this for the past few weeks. Dancing around each other, a tension thick in the air whenever they were alone. Esca brought out a part of him that he always tried to hide, to bury deep down where no one could see it. But every time he drew close to Esca’s wiry, compact body he could feel the desire boiling, so fierce that he could hardly stand it. It would be too much to hope that Esca felt the same, but sometimes Marcus would surprise a look on his face—a hungry need in his eyes as he watched Marcus lift hay bales onto the truck or chop wood in the backyard.

The minutes dragged by silently, until at last Esca stepped back, wiping his hands on the rag. “There, that should do it,” he said.

Marcus had drawn closer to watch Esca work, and when he turned, he slammed right into Marcus. Neither of them pulled away. He stared down into Esca’s face, heart pounding.

Esca put his hand on Marcus’s chest where the straps of his overalls met bare skin and rubbed his thumb over Marcus’s collarbone. “Been wanting to do that,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” Marcus asked softly, and he fit his own hand behind Esca’s neck, cool with sweat, and tilted his head upwards. “And this?” He leaned down, and Esca nodded, and their mouths met.

A quick kiss, and Marcus wanted _more_ , so he surged forward, pushing Esca back against the tractor.

“Ah, shit, Marcus,” Esca moaned as Marcus mouthed at his neck, claimed his mouth again in a rougher, deeper, kiss.

“God, I want you,” Marcus whispered, pushing at Esca’s overalls, frantic to get at bare skin. “Please, Esca.”

“All right—yes, just hang on a second,” Esca mumbled, trying to still Marcus’s fingers. “Just slow down. Slow down.”

Marcus stopped, panting, dizzy from lust. Esca was running his hands up Marcus’s bare arms, like he was soothing a startled horse.

“Your uncle’s not going to come out here, is he?” Esca asked.

“No. No, he always goes into town on Wednesdays. Won’t be back till supper.”

“Good.” Esca kissed him again, and Marcus bit back an embarrassing whimper. But when Esca undid the buttons on his fly and reached inside, finding his cock, he couldn’t stop a loud groan.

“Knew you’d be hung like a fucking horse,” Esca said, squeezing. And then he drew out his hand, laughing at Marcus’s moan of protest. “Up on the seat,” he ordered.

“But—”

“Do it, Marcus,” Esca whispered, flicking his tongue across the sweaty skin of Marcus’s neck.

Marcus went, clambering up, cock pressing uncomfortably against the denim of his overalls. He sat, spreading his legs, and Esca climbed up, straddling him.

“Now, where were we?” he said, grinning, and reached for Marcus’s cock again, drawing it out. Marcus stared down at it, clutched in Esca’s fist, precome shining on the head. With his other hand, Esca tugged down the straps on Marcus’s overalls, baring his chest.

“Like what you see?” Marcus asked him, smiling, tipping his head back as a firm stroke sent pleasure shooting through his body.

“Oh, yeah,” Esca said. “Not gonna let you just sit there, though.” And he took Marcus’s hand, put it on the bulge at his groin.

Marcus rubbed Esca’s cock through the denim, then opened his fly, took him out. He spit on his hand and started stripping him, hard and fast. Esca grunted, his head falling down onto Marcus’s shoulder, his own strokes speeding up.

Marcus couldn’t quite believe this was happening, was half-convinced it must be a hallucination brought on by heat stroke. But Esca was real, a solid weight in his lap. He could smell their sweat and sex mingling with the sweetness of the grass, drying in the sunshine.

He came all over Esca’s fist, and when Esca went off, his come spattered onto Marcus’s chest.

“Christ that was good,” Marcus managed after a moment. He held Esca’s hips, hitching him a little closer. Esca had a lazy smile on his face, and Marcus couldn’t help asking, “Have you—before—with a guy?”

Instantly, Esca’s eyes narrowed, and he took his hands off Marcus. “What’s it to you?” he demanded.

“Nothing—I just—just wondered,” Marcus stuttered, dismayed.

Esca gave him a long look. Then he kissed Marcus’s forehead, once, just a brush of his lips, and hopped off the tractor. He tucked himself back in, then started walking towards the house. “See you at supper,” he called back over his shoulder.

Marcus watched him go, puzzled, vaguely hurt, but wanting more of Esca’s lean body and his teasing mouth. He scrubbed the come off his chest with the rag and slowly climbed down, leaned back against the tractor, watching as Esca disappeared into the stunted rows of corn.


End file.
